


Omertà

by stonefree_elsie



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Mob, F/F, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-15
Updated: 2020-09-15
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:29:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26477245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stonefree_elsie/pseuds/stonefree_elsie
Summary: The small neighborhood that runs along Mariah Street is called Paradise by the people living all around, but unlike what its name might imply, it is one of the worst places where you could possibly live. It is here that a group of lowlife gangsters and ragtag thugs have gathered to rule the street and control the underworld. They tell themselves that they fight for their freedom, but in the face of potential treason and a rising climate of tension and insecurity, they find themselves on the verge of losing everything.And then, it's up to Armin Arlert, the resident torture afficionado, and to his faithful guard dog Eren, to investigate - except that what they might dig up could very well mean the death of everything they have ever known.
Relationships: Armin Arlert/Eren Yeager
Comments: 1
Kudos: 3





	Omertà

The whole room was silent. There wasn’t a single person, among all those seated around the table, that dared raised their voice.  
_Frankly_ , Hanji thought, _it was for the better._ They didn’t want excuses; they didn’t want justifications.  
At last, they leaned towards the table, noticing the uneasy shiver in their peers’ shoulders when they inched forward. If no one was willing to address the shitshow that had just unraveled downtown, they would.  
-So, they said, with the slightest pout on their lips, and the slightest hint of displeasure in their one good eye, anyone’s thoughts on what happened back there?  
As expected, no one answered. All the eyes were set on the table. The black marble tabletop reflected the orange lights and the shiny little diamond things dangling from the heavy candelabra. Hanji left everyone a couple seconds to finally talk, but nothing came. Their fingers tapped the tabletop, once and twice, and then they grabbed their chair’s arms to stand up. They turned around, facing the tall window and the sun setting down behind that, over the city’s skyline that looked like a dull, grey wall that trapped them within. Because there wasn’t still any answer, they shook everyone up with a simple sentence.  
-I’m still waiting.  
It wasn’t exactly an order; it was more like a little bit of pressure over everything else. And, at last, a voice rose over the silence.  
-It was an ambush, Hanji.  
Hearing their name, more than the word that had come just before, got the boss to look over their shoulder. Their apparent calm demeanor had shifted into a very displeased frown, and their left hand had found its place on their left thigh, where everyone could guess the shape and the weight of the gun in its holster, a silent threat. Everything could go wrong in a second; they all knew that.  
Hanji walked back to the table, and slammed their hands on the tabletop. But Eren, who was seemingly the only one who hadn’t suddenly lost his voice, didn’t jump back. Without shaking, he looked up, his deadpan eyes catching Hanji’s. They let out a sigh, and sat back into their seat, joining their gloved fingers.  
-Alright, they said. An ambush. How many, this past month? Four? _Five?_  
-Five, Armin replied from where he was sitting, on Eren’s right side.  
Hanji shifted in their seat to look at him. Just like Eren, Armin didn’t show any sign of major discomfort. If anything, he just sat a little straighter when he noticed that Hanji was looking at him, and Hanji replied:  
-That’s all? So, there’s no problem. Five… God, I don’t believe it, they scoffed, shaking their head.  
And there it was again, the silence. To break it, Hanji softly clapped their hands, and shooed everyone out.  
-Alright. Meeting tomorrow at noon. Now, out. Armin – in my office.  
Everyone nodded, and chairs rattled as everyone was obediently standing out and orderly exiting the meeting room. Whispers were exchanged – snippets of conversations between brothers and sisters in arms that were relieved to go back home, to their façade lives of model citizens. At least no one had died, this time. Hanji sighed, and shook their head.  
They gathered their own façade and walked out of the meeting room. As they closed the door, their eye fell on the windows that opened on the night sky. It was sickening – and the uneasy feeling in their gut remained even after they had closed and locked the door. Armin was waiting for them in the corridor – he looked engrossed in his conversation with Eren. With the noise of the key turning in the lock, they both looked up and Eren whispered a couple words before brushing past Armin and taking his leave with a nod in Hanji’s general direction. Hanji walked to Armin, their eyebrow shooting up.  
-What’s up with that?  
-Nothing relevant, Armin replied, turning around ever so slightly, so that his face was out of Hanji’s sight without him having to completely turn his back to them. I’m right after you, boss.  
Hanji let out another sigh, and nodded. They walked down the corridor, their footsteps muffled by the carpet, and stepped into the elevator. Hanji pressed the button and the entire elevator shook. From there, they could hear the echoes of the music, the laughter and the chatter of the people outside. Business had remained the same, and the whole thing had risen again from its ashes, with a new boss to man the boat. When the elevator stopped and the doors opened, Hanji stepped out first. Their office was behind one of the many nondescript doors along the corridor; but inside was a wood paneled blind room, because you can never be too careful. The organization needed its boss, now more than ever: Hanji couldn’t afford to be taken out by just any hitman. Bookshelves ran along most of the walls, leaving only some room here and there for a map or two. The desk stood in the middle of the room, and Hanji sat in their armchair, immediately under the tall painting that had been hanged on the wall in place of the walled-up window. They watched Armin look up to the portrait, his eyes full of something that looked like nostalgia, regret, and all things attached.  
Well, men like their previous leader were difficult to replace, and Hanji didn’t need to see Armin’s watery eyes to remind themself that they just didn’t have what it took to perfectly fit in Erwin Smith’s steps, armchairs and corridors.  
-Well, they said, shaking away the crushing doubt for now, I’m all ears, Armin.  
Armin nodded and swallowed hard. Hanji watched as his expression turned dead serious, and listened carefully as he explained:  
-Everyone was in place. We had the target surrounded, and we were extra careful. The plan was foolproof. And then, just as we were about to conclude the exchange, we had to abort. In seconds, the police swarmed the place, and even if they came from the nearest precinct, they would have needed about half an hour to get here.  
Hanji nodded. They had a hunch about where Armin’s little tale would be taking them. Still, they let him continue.  
-I took the liberty of keeping the time and place a secret from most of the guys, Armin explained. And as for us…  
-You weren’t given the exact settings either, Hanji recalled. Simple method. And?  
Armin shook his head, slowly, and his lips stretched into a sour grin.  
-The cops knew we’d be here, he said. They didn’t know the exact time of the exchange, but they were still here to meet us. The only logical explanation is that there was a leak, somewhere between our decisional meeting six weeks ago and this evening.  
Armin’s words dropped like a bomb, but it was to be expected. Still, Hanji shook their head, and whispered:  
-How much exactly did we lose?  
-The entire cargo, Armin replied, and our covers with Flegel’s company.  
-So, a couple reliable assets and a little more than eight grand, Hanji sighed. Good grief…  
The old mantel clock that had once been among Erwin’s most prized possessions ticked from where it had been forgotten, somewhere on the shelves. Noise from the street seeped in the quiet office: engines, klaxons, voices, everything that hinted at the fact that time had, in fact, not stopped. At last, Hanji let out yet another sigh – the frequency of them sighing in displeasure or pure helplessness had increased exponentially since their quick and totally questionable appointment as Erwin’s lacking replacement.  
-And so, they said, their voice hinting at how tired they were, what do you think, Armin?  
-Well, he said, I’d like to think otherwise, but for now, everyone’s a suspect.  
-Yeah, Hanji mumbled. Thanks for sharing that with me, Armin. Here’s what we’re going to do. I’ll meet with the guys to tell them about your suspicions, for starters. You wait for the green light, but for the meantime, I’ll only ask one thing of you.  
Armin nodded sternly, and Hanji said:  
-Try to look for any evidence of the leak. Ask around, and try to keep it a secret from everyone for now. Understood?  
-Yes, Armin said quite obediently - a little too quickly to not be _at least_ a little suspicious.  
Hanji’s good eye flared from behind their joined fingers.  
-Eren’s no exception. I don’t want him going on any rampage, am I making myself clear?  
Armin nodded again, but this time it looked more distraught.  
-Perfectly clear, Hanji.  
-Alright, Hanji said, I won’t keep you from your little date any longer. Be careful on the way home, alright?  
Armin nodded and uttered a couple words before leaving. It was only once Armin had closed the door behind him than Hanji let go of the façade that they managed to keep in place every hour of the day. They clenched their fists and their teeth, and muffled a scream of mixed anger. They were angry, alright; angry at how exposed and vulnerable they felt, angry at the weight of everyone relying on them suffocated them, angry at the daily sacrifices they were seemingly alone to make. There wasn’t a day when they didn’t feel like someone was constantly scrutinizing them. Even now…  
Hanji turned around on the wheels of the armchair, and looked up at the portrait. They had never thought Erwin to be this mountain of a man, with his eyes cold, hard, unforgiving, as he looked down on every poor soul that dared step into his office. Then again, he couldn’t have been painted as anything realistic, or they would have been even more of a joke. But Hanji needed him, the real him, flesh and bones and good, solid, reliable advice; not some dumb portrait that looked at them like they were a piece of shit on the sidewalk.  
The lump in their throat wasn’t getting any smaller, and it was hard to breathe. Oh, how shameful. They hadn’t cried when they had left home for the last time, or when they had decided to think of it as a greater good; they hadn’t cried when Erwin had died, or when it had all started to go down to shit the moment they had held everything in their hands. They hadn’t cried when they had lost an eye and when they had to go through the consequences. How long had it been? They hadn’t cried for years, and here they were, clenching their teeth and fighting as hard as humanly possible to keep control, and to keep at bay the tears that stung their one good eye.  
To try and lessen the stinging feeling of humiliation that was making them feel like shit even more, Hanji hid their face into their hands, and wiped the tears that were pricking their eye, threatening to roll down and overflow. Feeling a little better, they took a deep breath, and then looked up again, at the upside-down portrait of Erwin, to whisper:  
-Don’t worry, don’t... Don’t worry. I’m not going to waste all your efforts.  
They almost raised their close fist, as if to salute, but then thought better and simply turned around, leaned back in the chair and closed their eye. For now, it would do no good to be hasty. They had nothing to feel guilty about when it came to themself: as for the leak and its source, well…  
Hanji opened their eye, grabbed a pen and a piece of paper from the drawers of the desk, and started to write a letter. They would likely not get any sleep tonight; but for once, the thought of actually getting to do something drove them forward, and their chest felt a little less tight and painful than before.

After taking his leave, Armin had briefly swung by the casino. Some of the guys spent their nights there; no one he knew, or wanted to get to know, though. Sasha had hurried home straight away, and so had Jean and Conny. From what he heard from the barmaid, Mikasa had played a couple poker games, won a little money, and followed suit as well. Armin thanked the barmaid and wished her a good night, and she giggled a little before going back to her rowdy bunch of customers. She had been one of them, a long time ago; and then she had lost a leg and decided to keep to the sidelines. She hadn’t quit, because once you got there, there’s no going back, but she had a wife and kids to feed, and so she had found a way to help.  
On the street, Armin waved to a taxi, and gave the driver his address. The night was still young, but he could have run a marathon; the adrenaline from the meeting and everything that had followed still wasn’t wearing down. In this case, there was only one thing to do.  
As soon as the taxi stopped in front of the building, Armin paid what he owed and hurried out. Usually, the front door was locked, but he had never been afraid of a little lock: besides, everyone knew that if you weighed down on the doorknob, pushed a little, and then up, the door opened without any difficulty. The hallway was exactly what you’d expect of that kind of old building: the tiles on the floor were so greasy they looked brownish; more than half of the mailboxes had been savagely assaulted and lacked something, from a torn name tag to a chewed door; the staircase was covered in graffiti, some colorful and innocent, some raunchy and insulting; and an overall smell of old urine was like the cherry on top of the world’s most awful cake.  
Well, it was everything Armin, Eren and Mikasa had hoped for when they’d grown tired of the street and had gathered enough money to find a real, concrete roof to put over their head. They couldn’t afford anything else, because they were too young – it would have raised questions – and the money they’d gotten wasn’t exactly because they had found a ‘legal’ job, or because of the charity of well-intentioned church ladies.  
Their apartment was exactly like the rest of the building: they shared it with a couple rats and a colony of roaches, the air vent was always clogged and the fuses tripped every other day. Still, with time, it had become their home; and with everything they had gathered, the memories and the trinkets and the newer, better furniture they had gotten over time, it had slowly started to feel less like a shithole.  
Armin took off his shoes, and hanged his coat on the peg. The door of Mikasa’s room was closed, but Eren was nowhere to be seen. Armin shrugged, only a little disappointed, and walked into the kitchen to get something to eat. He was halfway through with the peanut butter and chocolate sandwich he was eating, standing up in the kitchen, when two hands grabbed his thighs and something wet brushed the nape of his neck.  
-I was starting to think Hanji had killed you, Eren insinuated, his breath making Armin’s skin crawl.  
-I’m eating, Armin simply replied, still leaning against Eren’s body.  
Eren’s arms wrapped themselves around Armin’s thighs, and Armin chuckled.  
-So, Eren said, finally got your promotion yet?  
-Nope, Armin replied between two mouthfuls of bread, I’m still just a nobody with a couple fancy tools. Why, felt ambitious all of a sudden?  
Armin swallowed the last bits of his sandwich and licked the crumbs from his fingers. He was well aware of Eren’s eyes, burning holes in his body, just as he was aware of his fingers, slowly clutching him tighter. And then at last Eren’s hands let go of his body, only to cup his face and tilt it backwards. Eren’s lips found Armin's, and they moved against his tongue, keeping the air from his lungs, making Armin choke and suffocate. Eren’s grip on his head was still strong, and Armin could feel the pain in his neck, his throat bulging, but when he raised his hands, it wasn’t to push Eren away, but rather to grab his wrists and lean against him a little more. When Eren let go of him, Armin took a deep breath, felt his lips stretching into a wicked, crooked little smirk, and whispered, his eyes shining with tears:  
_-Fuck you._  
Eren didn’t reply anything, but his smirk, that reflected the stars shining in his eyes, threw Armin all over the place. He looked Eren up and down, from his wet hair to the oversized sweater he was wearing over his shorts, and raised an eyebrow.  
-Since when have you not been wearing any pants?  
Eren shrugged, and replied:  
-I took a shower.  
-Don’t you have, like, any respect for Mikasa?  
Eren shrugged again.  
-Hey, she’s seen me naked more than I can count, and if it bothered her, she’d tell me. Besides, it’s not like I’m going commando – _I have boxer shorts._  
Armin couldn’t help his distressed chuckle; maybe it was the adrenaline from the afternoon finally crashing, after all. Before that could ever happen, he grabbed Eren by the sleeves of his awful, greyish sweater, and pulled him closer. Eren was quick to understand – he had always been, despite how quick everyone was to just rule him out as a crazy rabid dog with comportment issues. He grabbed Armin and lifted him up, grunting under the effort, and managed to let them crash on the couch.  
It was only a matter of seconds before Armin’s shaky fingers made Eren’s shorts slip along his legs. Noticing how unsure his hands were made him curse. Eren, towering over him, softly took Armin’s hands in his and raised them to his lips. He closed his eyes and Armin watched him do, unable to move. When Eren opened his eyes, he gave Armin a little smile and whispered:  
-See? It’s okay.  
Armin propped himself up on his elbows, and nodded to hide the fact that he was catching his breath. Eventually, he glanced at Eren and said, unable to hide the sarcasm in his voice:  
-Oh, so you’re feeling lucky tonight?  
-What, Eren replied with the same tone, just ‘cause I’m on top?  
Armin frowned and gathered all of his strength to overthrow Eren and pin him down on the sofa. Eren could easily have sent him flying, but he let Armin spread his legs with one of his knees and grab his wrists to have him completely defenseless. Armin smiled, and replied, a little louder:  
-Exactly.  
Eren nodded, and when Armin let go of his hands, he didn’t move; Armin took his vest off and unbuttoned his shirt, feeling Eren’s eyes locked on his chest. When Eren rocked his thighs to throw him off-balance, Armin let out a laugh and hissed:  
-Stop that, for fuck’s sake!  
Eren sat up, and nibbled Armin’s earlobe, just around his earring, making a surge of desire flare through his body. At some point, he had stopped using his head when it came to whatever it was that happened between them. Overthinking things was always painful in the end, and Eren’s arms where always opened on an endless ocean of bliss he could pretend to drown into, for a couple of minutes that always felt too short.  
It was an hour, or perhaps days after he’d gone home. At some point, Eren had drifted asleep, and here was Armin, his shirt draped around his shoulders, butt naked on the couch, smoking a cigarette because he wasn’t feeling like sleeping. They always kept a window open, or else they would have died from the smell; and so, Armin made his best to have the smoke fly through the window.  
Hours etched silently. At around two, Mikasa stepped into the kitchen. She stopped when she noticed Armin, who was playing with the remains of his cold, dead cigarette, and Eren, whose arms were still clutched around Armin’s waist. Armin waved in her direction, and she gave him a thumbs up, followed by a couple of words.  
-Don’t smoke inside, she whispered.  
Armin nodded, and Mikasa frowned and pointed at the couch. When Armin wordlessly admitted to going all out on the couch, Mikasa threw her arms up and let out a loud sigh. She shook her head, as if to say “that ain’t my problem to fix”, treated herself to a bowl of cereal with chocolate milk and a beer, and walked back into her room with her late-night snack. Armin watched the door close, and then he sighed and leaned back into the couch, before remembering that Eren was still sleeping with his arms around him.  
-Come on, big boy, he whispered, pushing locks of dark hair behind Eren’s ear, we’re going to sleep.  
Eren moved around in his sleep, and Armin managed to push and pull him all the way to the mattress on the floor, just behind the couch. Mikasa, as the stronger one, had claimed the rights to the one room of the apartment, and they were too old and too close now to be able to sleep in her bed. Hence the mattress with some bedsheets and a cover thrown over it. Eren rolled into bed and Armin tried his best to get him under the sheets. Armin reached out to the ashtray nearby and let go of his cigarette.  
As he closed his eyes, the whole mole story came back to him. Well, who was talking about a mole? For now, it was just a leak, and there was a difference. A leak could be a mistake; a leak couldn’t lose a couple fingers. Armin rolled on his side and peeked at Eren behind his eyelashes. He was still sound asleep; Armin reached out to caress his cheek, and Eren hummed while grabbing Armin’s hand, and it made Armin chuckle. Well, whatever it was, it was nothing Armin Arlert and his mad dog couldn’t successfully investigate. They were a team, and a hell of a good one, at that.  
It was nothing they wouldn’t go through. They’d find a way to get out of it.  
They always did.


End file.
